


The Archivist and the Distortions

by BrownieFox



Series: of two archives [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Guilt, He/him and they/them Michael, Helen is :D, Kidnapping, Michael is not a friend to archivists, No proof reading we die like mne, Sasha is straight up not having a good time, forced-lotioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Sasha James, Head Archivist, gets kidnapped by a circus and has a chat with the Distortion
Relationships: Sasha James & Helen | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives)
Series: of two archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838722
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	The Archivist and the Distortions

Sasha hated fear monsters. 

Right now, she had to say that the Stranger was her least favorite of the entities, and yes, that was entirely due to the fact that they were trying to stop the Unknowing. Also, she had just gotten kidnapped by them, which definitely didn’t endear Sasha to their cause. 

So far things we’re, well, they weren’t good but they weren’t as bad as they could’ve been, Sasha guessed. Not how Sasha thought being kidnapped by a bunch of mannequins/skin stealers would go. For one thing, she still had her skin on her so far. Sure, they’d made it clear they didn’t intend to let her  _ keep  _ it, but for now they seemed far more concerned with lotioning her up so her skin would be ‘nice’. They were focusing especially on her ankles, where the worm scars were, as well as the burn scar on her cheek. 

It was like an aggressive and terrible spa or something. It was made worse by the fact that it was mannequins rubbing the lotion on, the fact that they always ended up putting way too much on and Sasha being left with weird puddles of lotion that drying up and became awful, and it was all topped by the mannequins probably not being aware nor concerned about how much pressure they used and Sasha ending up with bruises all over.

The recorders kept showing up, and Sasha would mumble to them through her gag as best she could. She hoped that Jon - if this was Jon - was keeping an eye, or rather a recorder, on Martin and Tim. She equally hoped that they would find her and that they were staying safe. Nikola would sometimes come in, see them, and she herself had become convinced they were Elias’ ears or would end up getting to Elias somehow or something, talking to them like she was talking directly to him. 

Sasha was gagged most of the time, although she had to wonder who she was supposed to scream  _ to _ . Then she remembered about how Jon used to be able to look at you and ask you something and how you had to answer. He always looked pained afterwards and would border-line run away. Maybe Nikola was afraid of Sasha doing that? Sasha had never tried it, but maybe, if that was what Nikola didn’t want her to do…

That line of thought did nothing, as Sasha was gagged either way. It only ever came off when they fed her - on the times it seemed like they remembered to feed her - and give her some water, and at those points Sasha was too afraid and too weak to try anything. 

It was on maybe the third or fourth day, time already getting hard to distinguish, that Michael showed up.

The yellow door appeared between blinks, as garish a yellow as ever. Sasha, tied to the chair as she was, couldn’t stand and open it, or try knocking on the door. As it turned out, she didn’t need to, as it swung outwards on its own accord. 

At first, Michael looked like he had at the cafe. Human, tall but not inhumanly so, long and curly blond hair, blue eyes that looked kind and honest. He wasn’t smiling at her, and he stood there in the doorway looking almost sad. Then he strode out of the door and had to duck because he was far too tall, his proportions nonsensical, limbs bending where joints shouldn’t exist. They were human-looking only in a vague definition of the word, in an abstract sense. Yes, that seemed to fit the Distortion just right. Abstract.

“Do you feel safer, now?” Michael asked, their face twisted into an amused smirk that felt cold. Sasha shook her head, not sure how the hell being tied up by the murder circus should make her feel safe. The last time she’d seen Michael had been shortly before Jon had been accused of murder, duringn that week where he was just missing. Sasha had tried to explore the tunnels, gotten completely turned around, and Michael had helped her get out. She ended up in a random place a couple hours from London, sure, but she had been saved from the tunnels at least. 

“Tell me, Archivist, how did the first one feel?” Michael said the title ‘Archivist’ like it was bitter on his tongue, he spat the word out, and yet it sounded so honey-sweet in his voice, “The first kill for your God. Did you revel in knowing his blood was on your hands? Or was it just a part of the job to you? Just another step along the road? Running towards the Eye as if it will give you salvation?”

Sasha had no idea what Michael was talking about, and if it wasn’t for the gag around her mouth she would have said as much as well. That still didn’t stop her from making a sound she hoped came across as a question. The Distortion laughed, placing the back of their hand to their mouth like some 80’s anime villain.

“I have wanted to kill an Archivist for a long time. I had thought it would have been the one before you, but it would seem the true one had been lurking behind him all along. He was just another pig for the slaughter of your becoming, he wasn’t he?” Michael jeered. 

Sasha made an indignant sound, shifting around in her chair. Jon had nothing to do with this… did he? She certainly hadn’t been the one to kill him, that had been something in America, and even then she still wasn’t entirely convinced he was dead. Sasha’s rocking of the chair made Michael laugh again, and the sound made a headache start to form in Sasha’s brain. If she could cover her ears, she would, but she also had a feeling their voice would get through that meager barrier anyway.

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing when you read those statements,” Michael continued on, “As if your rising power wouldn’t have immediately resulted in Jonathon’s fall from favor.” 

And Sasha didn’t have anything to say to that, trying to process it herself. 

“I will be seeing you, Archivist, and when I do, I will kill you.” Michael promised and left just as they’d come. 

For the next four weeks, Sasha stewed. 

She thought about Elias’ easy dismissal of Jon’s disappearance. 

She thought of reading the statements and the pride she’d felt as she was able to read more and more true ones out loud. Tied up, unable to do anything, she missed reading them.

She thought about Elias’ excitement at her work, his quiet words of mistakes whenever he mentioned Jon, of the pride in his eyes when he looked at her.

Sasha knew she hadn’t been a part of Elias’ original plan. She had been an unexpected variable that had thrown the whole thing for a loop. But she had also been exactly what Elias had wanted, hadn’t she? The answer to his troubles, the solution to the problem.

Jon hadn’t trusted Elias. Sasha had trusted him after she’d thought he’d saved her. Jon had become jumpy and paranoid and twitchy after his first attack from the fears. Sasha had come out braver and stronger and ready to pick up any slack. Jon slowly but surely severed his ties with his assistants, or made a good attempt at it. Sasha hung onto them as tightly as she could, slowly viewing it as her responsibility to keep them safe.

Jon was volatile and unpredictable.

Sasha was a fool.

Over the four weeks of captivity in the circus, the calliope always existing in the background, Sasha cried a lot, trying to tell the cassette recorders how sorry she was. She hadn’t known at the time that she would lead to Jon’s death, but her desire for knowledge led her to the cliff. Perhaps she hadn’t chosen to kill Jon, but hadn’t she made the hundred of other, small choices that had led up to that point. 

When the yellow door reappeared, Sasha was so far in her wallowing that, if Michael had stepped out and offered to kill her in their passages, consumed by the Distortion, she wasn’t sure she would have said no. Wasn’t it what she deserved?

But Michael didn’t step out. Instead, a woman Sasha had only seen once, coming down to the archives to give a statement and then never leaving the room, disappearing into thin air, opened her door. 

She crossed into the Stranger’s domain, using her knife-sharp hands to cut through the ropes and the gag. She bend down, body folding impossibly so that she could look Sasha in the face at the same level. Helen’s eyes were a kaleidoscope, ever shifting, ever changing. Her head tilted to the side as her hands came up and cupped Sasha’s face. Her fingers dragged gently along Sasha’s cheeks, but no softly enough. Sasha could feel the sharp sting followed by the wet blood running down them. 

_ ‘Good,’  _ Sasha thought,  _ ‘Ruin all of Nikola’s hard work.’ _

“You’re Helen, right?” Sasha’s voice sounded weak and raspy after having not been used for so long. The words were sloppy, ill-practiced. “Michael, what happened to…?” 

“I was Michael, but not anymore. I am Helen, to a certain degree, as much as I can ever be one thing, can ever be a human. Michael is now dead, but he is also forever a part of me. But he was also clouded by himself, too much Michael to be us as we are supposed to be.” Helen spoke herself into circles, and if there had been any question in Sasha’s mind that the woman was of the Spiral now, that completely dashed it. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Sasha asked, voice somehow even smaller sounding. Expressions and emotions were hard to read on Helen’s face, but Sasha wanted to think she saw concern of some sort there.

“I like Jon. He was nice to me. And I am not Michael. And I don’t want to be alone, I suppose. Come, let’s get you out of here.” 

Sasha stood shakily and Helen slipped out of her hand around Sasha’s waist, slicing through her shirt and scoring her stomach, but Sasha couldn’t find it in herself to be upset about that. She simply leaned against Helen and walked slowly into the Distortion.

The door closed behind them, but not before Sasha could hear the click of a recorder turning off.

**Author's Note:**

> quickly whipped this up after writing the last chapter of 'Archive and Archivist', really wanted to flesh out the scene i mentioned :)


End file.
